He hadn’t set up a “room” extension. He lived alone.
He accepted. His own desktop vanished. In its place, a live feed of his apartment. Not from a camera he owned. From the webcam embedded in his monitor. He saw himself: a ghost in a wrinkled dress shirt, eyes hollow, hand frozen on the mouse. ringcentral app desktop
Ethan’s coffee mug slipped from his hand, hitting the carpet with a wet thud. He hadn’t typed that. His fingers were frozen above the keyboard. He hadn’t set up a “room” extension
He looked at the app’s settings. The status icon was a green dot. Available. He was always available. For the Tokyo handoff. For the weekend outage. For the CEO’s 11 PM “quick sync.” He had traded his circadian rhythm for a Slack emoji. His own desktop vanished
Behind him, projected on the wall like a specter, was the shadow of a little girl. She had no source. The light from the monitor bent around her.